Wicked Things by Yolanda Olson
Hollis
The manwho had been watching me from the other end of the bar, stopped just short of reaching me. He put a hand on the shoulder of the drunken college boy who had sat next to me and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.
The boy raised his hands and nodded as he got up and walked away, with his friends following close behind.
“Is this seat taken?” the man with the beautiful, piercing green eyes asked me nervously, as he pointed down at the now empty stool.
I shook my head and tried my best to smile as he sat down.
I took a deep breath and gripped my glass with both hands so that he wouldn’t see how hard I was shaking.
But when he smiled at me with every fiber of his soul, I felt all of the worries slowly start to melt away.
“I’m Bates,” he said as he rested an elbow on the bar-top. “And you are …?”
“Hollis,” I stated quietly.
His smile deepened and his eyes took on a glowing warmth.
“It’s about time.”
“Huh?”
“Ever since I was a little tyke, I wondered what the name of the most beautiful girl in the world could possibly be. Now I know,” he explained, matter-of-factly.
All of the blood rushed straight to my face, and I felt thankful that I had spent so much time covering up the bruises and scrapes I had received the night before.
It meant that not only could he not see them, but he also wouldn’t be able to see how deeply his simple praise had made me blush.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I felt like an inexperienced girl out in the world for the first time, and while I also dared to feel hopeful, I knew this night would end like every other one before.
“What are you drinking?” he asked, nodding at my glass.
“Huh? Oh, um. I don’t know. I usually just order whatever is strongest,” I told him with a shrug.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he inquired as he raised an arm to get the bartender’s attention.
His eyes never seemed to leave me no matter what, and it kept on filling that cesspool of hope.
I hated him for it.
And I yearned for more.
“Sometimes nights out can get rough. I like to be numb before it happens.”
Bates tilted his head as his smile grew into a grin, and I turned my attention back to the glass I was so sure would shatter soon if I didn’t release the pressure of my grip around it.
“To wild nights,” he said as he leaned over and tapped my glass.
